Red Jack and Nightingale
by ZCaptcha
Summary: Two men have their own curses, one to be beast and the other undead. The undead is lotted to kill the beast but will they be able to overcome circumstances to save Cyrodiil as a team. Part One
1. Chapter 1

Red Jack and Nightingale  
Chapter One 

Darkness is an unsettling mystery to man. It hides many things, stalkers and all manner of creatures. Many have pointed fangs and claws, others prefer to drain the marrow from your bones as you live and breathe, or simply like to feed off your fear.

Cyrodiil is home to many of these monsters. I found that out the hard way as a child traveling with my parents to Cheydinhal. I was but a young Breton boy, riding in between my mother and father on our cart with Brose our horse plodding along. The warm glow of our lamp covered us as it hung suspended from the high hook on our cart. Father had found it necessary despite the large, full moon overhead.

The attack was so sudden, so fast that it blurred. The cart flipped and I flew off along with my parents. The lamp that had dangled merrily moments before shattered on the ground and erupted into a small fire on the ground illuminating Brose fighting with a monster. It had large, jagged claws and a massive set of jaws. Brose didn't stand a chance; he was disemboweled and dead with the creature feeding on his entrails noisily.

In a rush, my father stood and yelled at my mother to take me and run. The sudden shout attracted the attention of the large creature. It pawed forward into the light and I could see it for what it was a massive wolf. Being only a small child, I cried for father to come with us as my mother carried me off as fast as she could.

My father was no regular person, I hadn't known it at the time but years before my birth he had worked in the Mages Guild. He had been a man in plain fishing warders that turned into an armed warrior in my sight. That was the last I saw of him before mother rounded the bend in a frantic hurry...

* * *

The sound of the night air echoed through the thin walls of the wooden shack. The insistent buzz of insects and croaks of the swamp frogs, you got used to it. The Argonian turned in his bed, slowly drifting off into sleep.

He made a decent living trading Skooma here in Bravil amongst the other dealers. He didn't really care that he may have screwed some people over in his dealings, besides, who knew? The count of Bravil was a joke, and his son was addicted to the stuff.

A slight creak of the floor boards called his attention back to the room.

"Is someone there?" he asked as he set up in his bed.

Instinctively the Argonian reached for the long sword he kept by his bed. Grabbing at air he finally diverted his attention long enough to look for it, only it wasn't there. Truly concerned now, the Argonian looked back to the darkness of his home. He had but one window in his room from which the light of a half moon poured through, and glinting in the light was the long sword he was missing from his bedside.

"How the hell did that get over there?" he asked himself puzzled.

"Maybe I did it, Ju Nee,"

Ju Nee froze in his bed. That voice was in his ear, followed by a cold edge pressing against his throat. The Argonian gulped, feeling it catch on whatever blade was against his throat and slid on down.

"What do you want? Please, I'll do anything. Free skooma? Money!" he pleaded.

The blade pressed harder, and he could feel the breath of his assailant on his ear. Out of the corner of his eye thanks to the moonlight he could see a faint outline of the person threatening his life.

"Sithis demands a particular soul this night," the voice whispered in his ear.

The blade drew back as crimson sprayed from Ju Nee's throat over his bed. A clean portion of the sheet rose with the impression of being gripped as it was run over something, obviously the blade that had just taken the life of the Argonian, Ju Nee. Silently, the ghostly assassin left the crime scene.

It'd be an interesting mess for someone to clean up tomorrow once the body was found. Ju Nee had just crossed one too many people for his own good.

The foul night air of Bravil met his nostrils, and for a moment, the assassin had to restrain the urge to gag. The smell was so terrible; he pondered how people could stand the stench. Bravil had the potential to be a nice town if the count would only get off his ass and make it such. Regaining composure, he moved silently cloaked by his chameleon spell. Sithis would no doubt have made it evident that Ju Nee had departed the world of the living to Ocheeva in some way back in Cheydinhal before he returned.

He made a quick detour into one of the many dark alleys of Bravil. Dispelling his chameleon enchantment, Valen reached up and removed his black hood and stuffed it down the front of his glass armor. Scratching his short, brown hair he suddenly realized he was a little late on feeding. Valen reached into his carrying bag and drew out a well-sewn lump of leather. There was nothing special about the case, but he needed what was contained inside. Fangs extending, he bit down draining the blood inside.

Yes, Valen was a vampire.

Blood thirst satisfied, he dropped what had been a previously full blood roll on the ground and exited the alley. His glass shorts word waved at his side, counter balanced by the glass shield on his other arm. Unlike most of his dark brothers and sisters his gear was enchanted entirely to augment his own abilities and resistances on top of being a vampire. Fire was of no particular harm to him due to have being originally a Dunmer.

Years ago when he first joined the Dark Brotherhood he was still naive in the ways of the assassin, and a Dunmer but strong in the ways of magic from the three years he had spent in the Mages Guild. Vicente had found him to be a worthy candidate for Vampirism and shared the dark gift. All in all, he supposed he was in his late twenties now though it didn't matter; he hadn't aged a day since he turned as was typical of all vampires.

"Good evening," the guardsmen called to him.

Valen responded with a warm smile as he passed through the gates of Bravil into the filth that passed for a forest. By morning, he would be a quarter of the way to Cheydinhal, and a bounty would be out for the unseen killer of the Argonian Ju Nee.


	2. Chapter 2

Red Jack and Nightingale  
Chapter Two 

My last contract had been an odd one. Instead of taking a life, I was asked to save one. None the less, I carried it out without hesitation to the letter. I allowed the Argonian Hides-His-Heart to live, and then waited a day. Upon returning to Chorrol I went to the church and revived the client, only when he awoke though did he mention a curse. Slightly flustered, I fought my way through a few zombies and brought him the Gray Mare.

That was days ago, and now I had returned to the Brotherhood, to my loving brothers and sisters, well, except maybe for M'raaj-Dar. He's always moody anyway. Naturally, Vicente having given me the contract I was to see him for my money.

I had taken only a moment's time at the great wooden doors that led to his room before I heard him call to me.

"Come in Valen,"

The calming tone he possessed as he called to me was remarkable. I had been nervous about coming to see him after I was through with the contract. Vicente had solemnly told me it would be the last contract he ever gave me before I left some time ago.

"Please, sit," he requested, motioning towards the chair opposite him.

Though his face was sunken and nearly unreadable due to a lack of feeding, I could feel a bit of joy radiating from him as he spoke to me.

"As I well informed you last time we spoke, I will no longer be giving you your assignments. You are no longer a hatchling my brother, you are now well versed in the ways of your profession. Ocheeva will handle your jobs from here on out, even now she has one lined up for you. You may go now if you like, but we have one subject left should you wish to discuss it now. I know you're tired, but this is your choice,"

I always found Vicente interesting, and truthfully I didn't even plan on staying in the sanctuary more than a night.

"Let's go ahead and get it out of the way, I won't be staying in the sanctuary long," I answered.

Vicente smiled at me, his long fangs glinting in the dim light of the room.

"When you first came here and met me Valen, you asked me about Vampires,"

My heart skipped a beat in my chest. Could he actually be proposing what I thought he was?

"Yes?" I inquired eagerly.

"I made a promise, that when I believed you worthy, I would share with you the dark gift. Valen, I feel that you have done so, and wish to extend you the offer. Do you wish to become one with the night as I have?"

My throat ran dry.

"I accept Vicente,"

Valtieri gave what I could only hope was the kindest smile he could muster.

"Very well, I shall come visit you tonight as you sleep. Your actual turning however, could very well be days from now. I would suggest waiting until you do rather than going and eagerly taking that contract Ocheeva has waiting for you. The change can be a sudden, and very painful event my brother,"

His eyes pierced into my own as his spoke, ensuring that the fact of his words stuck with me. I knew now, that Vicente truly considered me a brother now. I was only mere days from attaining the power of the super natural, a power I coveted.

Nodding to Vicente, I rose and left him to his thoughts once more...

* * *

Sonya had woken with the sun as always and prepared breakfast for Serge. She was what most nobles would consider a servant to Lord Serge Arcole. Serge himself though never considered her such.

He owned this large manor but it was only Serge and her that lived here which led to dirty little rumors about them. Other nobles absolutely hated him, but wouldn't openly voice it against a Wizard of the Mages Guild. His history was widely known, so it was common knowledge that his life had began as a commoner who lost his parents at an early age.

His father, Jusin Arcole had been a Magician but retired to live as a simple farmer with his wife and Serge's mother, Mirri Arcole. Serge however was orphaned young, found wandering in the wilderness by a Legion soldier.

Sonya herself had been orphaned seven years ago back when Serge shared his father's rank. He had been traveling when he came across her family's camp, which had been under attack by bandits. Her parents had been long since dead, the only survivor was her, a sobbing little girl surrounded by big, leering bandits.

Then Serge arrived, her valiant hero through the brush. The bandits were slightly surprised but none-the-less, moved to attack their new target. Needless to say, the bandits died. She never understood it then when she looked into his eyes as he stood there. It was like the one she had worn as she watched her parents die before her eyes. It wasn't until she heard his own story that she did understand, a young child with dead parents had immediately sparked his own memories. It was his sympathy that had bound her to him.

Serge had certainly been an interesting person to live with. As a member of the Mages Guild, he lived in the Imperial City to be within reach of the Arch-Mage as he was a high ranking member now and considered part of the council.

He also had made a living as being a treasure hunter over the years too. From his travels, least it be for the Guild or for his own gain he'd always bring her something. Sonya's room was filled with all sorts of things he'd find as he traveled.

Serge had failed to come down for breakfast this morning, and she was sure he'd be dead asleep in his lab again. He was one of the most brilliant alchemists in the Guild's possession, another reason he had such high authority. He could cast spells too, but his range consisted of defensive spells. His used his power to protect and restore, not to destroy unlike some of his fellow Mages. Serge had seen some things over his travels, things that had scared him, unnerved him, or downright infuriated him. He didn't kill if he could help it, though he made an exception for bandits and such.

Sonya's hand paused briefly on the door to his lab before she checked the lock. Sometimes he would lock it for her safety while he experimented. The knob turned so Sonya pushed the door inward.

His lab was fairly large; the table in the center room was a semicircle. Alembics and other equipment were kept neatly together. The bookcase on the far side of the room was crammed full of volumes on alchemy and the like. Serge also kept a cot in the corner for him to take a nap while something brewed, or he had his chair so he could read. The only other entrance to this room was a secret door that led down a narrow hall to Serge's chambers.

As of late he'd been working vigorously on a new potion for the Legion at Emperor Uriel's request. She had no idea what it was, but she was certain it'd be something to augment a soldier's strength or otherwise. There had been many things that alchemists had made over the years.

Serge had come across something during the years called Shadowbanish Wine when he'd go looting in the old forts. He had actually looked into it and found that it was a type of wine that an alchemist had brew hundreds of years ago improving night vision while helping soldiers feel warm on cold nights. It was a rather ingenious idea for the lookouts.

Sonya popped open the secret door in Serge's room and stepped through, being careful to shut it as she had with the other door. Sure enough covered in a mess of blankets and pillows was the Breton she'd been looking for. His blonde hair was a tangled mess and he was snoring. Worse, he had only gone to be in a pair of pants. Sonya felt slightly embarrassed as she reached down to rub his back.

Groggily he peered up at her, apparently slightly confused as to why she was at the council with him. It suddenly hit Serge that he had never left his house this morning.

"BLOODLY HELL!" he cried, flying up and out of his bed.

He snapped his fingers and one his closets flew open, from which sprang a red silk robe and his chain mail. The clothing hovered there in the air while he washed his face in his room basin and hastily tied his hair back.

"Serge? What's going on?" Sonya asked in utter confusion.

"I was supposed to present my latest research to the council today; I don't even know what time it is!"

"Calm down, it's just after sunrise," she answered.

His frantic rush ceased as he looked at her from inside his chain mail shirt.

"Really? Excellent, I guess you cooked breakfast already then?" he asked slipping on all the way.

"Aye," she answered turning as he started to remove his pants for his chain mail leggings.

She didn't move again until he touched her shoulder, fully robed with his steel shorts word at his side.

"Let's go eat," he said cheerily.


	3. Chapter 3

Red Jack and Nightingale  
Chapter Three 

The Cheydinhal Sanctuary was never a busy place. It was one of rest for the dark brothers and sisters that inhabited it. Busy would be if someone had broken in, which had only happened once in the time that Valen had found his home here.

Due to being underground, it was cool all the time. Though for residents such as the still living that was a bit bothersome. For Vampires like Vicente and Valen, it was comfortable.

Valen had spoken with Ocheeva upon returning from Bravil. Like always, the Dread Father had made known that Valen's task had been completed and without error. It had earned him a nice bonus, and a new contract.

He wouldn't set out immediately though, not until he had spoken with Vicente.

Valen moved quietly down the dark hall towards Vicente's room. The elder Vampire would no doubt be reading at this hour, in anticipation of a visit from his only living hatchling. Of course he would be right.

Vicente had the uncanny ability to know who had left and who had come home. Of course, when Valen thought about it, Vicente could probably recognize the shapes of his fellow family members with the sight. Valen's abilities as a Vampire had become heightened, but it'd be many a year before he could do the things his master could.

Valen didn't even have to knock as he approached the door, his master merely called for him to enter.

"I'm glad to see that you've returned from your latest contract, has Ocheeva given you a new one already?" Vicente inquired.

He put his book, "Creatures of the Forests" down.

"She has, in particular I needed to come see you about it," Valen answered.

"Quite, what is it?"

"I've been instructed to kill a thief,"

"Come now, that can't be all Valen,"

"True, the thief is known only as Red Jack and a highly capable mage. The client recently had a rare stone stolen from his collection and he wants it back along with Jack's mask,"

"I spent a number of years back before I turned doing minor jobs for the Mages Guild, all I can tell you Valen is start there. I have never heard of such a thief, but than again as we both know I rarely venture to the surface,"

"He's been active for a number of years apparently. The only thing the client can tell me is that he wears a unique mask. He is also an independent meaning he doesn't work with the Thieves Guild, so our informant there is utterly useless,"

"Well, well Valen, it would seem you've accepted quite the assignment. This is almost as bad as trying to find the Gray Fox. I have no doubts about you succeeding though, you are my offspring. All I'm able to do is wish you luck in your assignment,"

"Thank you Vicente, I'd better be off then. I'd like to reach the Imperial City before dawn," Valen responded.

He stood and exited the room with a bow, as he normally did these days. Valen had the deepest respect for Vicente. However, what little information he had provided for Valen was almost next to nothing but he'd have no choice but to go to the Arcane University. He dreaded returning to anything of his past, all of it was behind him now. Valen was only the Nightingale now, a perfect assassin.

* * *

The Mages Guild has existed for longer than anyone can remember. It has always been a center of learning for not only magic, but other schools as well. Most Mages could read or write, even do advanced math depending on their fields. It was rare to find a scholar that didn't practice some school of magic.

The university is the one place where they all came together; people of all kinds met here and discussed ideas. The university, it was where the true magic happened: innovation.

Serge as stated was a master alchemist and the best at the Guild's disposal albeit he acted on an odd schedule. As such though, the daunting task of brewing the Legion's potions fell to his shoulders alone. Emperor Uriel had requested something to put an extra spring in his soldiers' step, most likely for a new land acquisition he was planning along the borders. So far, the only thing Serge had created did the job, but made people sick after a few hours.

He still couldn't figure out what was going wrong with it, all his ingredients matched up as did their measurements. The potion increased the physical attributes of the user as well as their resistance to poisons for about two hours or so, but then nausea and headaches would set in for the next four.

The council was rather disappointed that he hadn't solved that small problem, but the only thing he could really do was to concoct an antidote to the potion that the soldiers could take before the side effects set in, but to carry such a thing into battle was a bad idea. They'd have to finish whatever they were doing within the two hour timeframe or possibly die.

Only Traven didn't seem too aggravated with his shortcomings. The Arch-Mage had taken him aside after the meeting and spoke to him, and admitted while disappointing it was better than most of those old bats up there with him could do. It wasn't often that a Mage of a higher ranking would admit to the superiority of a lower ranking member in certain fields, so Serge had taken it as a compliment.

All in all, his morning hadn't been completely blown by a seemingly failed presentation.

He had stopped to pick up a few ingredients from the Lustratorium and say hello before he went to the market place. Sonya had asked he get some things while he was out today gathering some things for his own projects.

The Feed Bag would probably knock out the list that Sonya had given him earlier that morning. As for his own needs though, Serge required some new bear skins and a steel dagger. The market was particularly full today which was good, he didn't feel like being here all day.

What he really needed to do was get back to his home and go on a well deserved break. As he neared his deadline for his presentation he had locked himself away in the lab, which was certainly no way to live.

"Maybe I could pay a visit to Memorial Cave?" he wondered aloud.

No one in the Imperial City knew what had become of that place in the past ten years. It was believed to be a resting place for heroes long since forgotten, but if you had spent some years wandering about as an adventurer you'd know otherwise. A cave for those of brave deed had become home to those who stalk in the dead of night, Vampires. He could use some more of their dust, his jar was running low.

Of course, there always was the option of the sewers beneath the Bloodworks. Vampires thrived down there as well; an arena match was like a party to them.

He was on his way into Rohssan's when Serge felt the strangest presence he'd felt in a long time. He had been thinking of Vampires, but this was ridiculous. He looked up when he saw a figure walking through the middle of the market.

He was clad in glass armor, his face was covered by a black hood but Serge knew what he'd probably find in there.

The Vampire froze, looking suddenly unnerved. Serge was sure why, he'd probably felt the same thing Serge did. He scanned the market place, but Serge had already made his way into "A Fighting Chance" before the foul monster could realize it was Serge that he felt.

A Vampire in the Imperial City was bad, there were already two to Serge's knowledge but they kept to themselves. Or at least appeared to, there was no way Serge could ever call attention to them without them alerting the Legion to his own dirty little secret.


	4. Chapter 4

Red Jack and Nightingale  
Chapter Four

The shadows were his greatest ally in his profession, but there were a great many magical defenses that those he stole from could erect. Jack had just happened to not see this particular enchantment.

Having only just jimmied the lock open he set off a strong summon spell that bound an unhappy Dremora to this plane. Jack cursed himself for having not noticed the enchantment on the lock, but he sized up the opponent anyway.

Come to think of it, Dremora were never happy as he darted across the floor. The Dremoran warrior clenched his mace tightly and swung down, cracking a few floor boards while he tried to strike his master's intruder. No bumbling Dremora could really match the speed that Jack could strike with as a steel dagger lashed out across the summon's face. A deep, bloody gash opened, and almost immediately, the warrior stumbled before locking up and falling to the floor. Blood poured from the wound as he lay on the floor grunting from obvious pain.

Within a few seconds, the demon warrior and all traces that he'd been there were gone. Poisons and enchantments were a nifty tool. Satisfied that no more hidden enchantments guarded the box, Red Jack approached it and drew from within the box a blood red stone the size of your average river pebble.

"The Philosopher's Stone isn't some trinket, Thief,"

He wasn't surprised that the struggle had woken the homeowner, a Magician named Varon Auvidicus. Jack knew the stone wasn't some small thing he could pawn off; it was why he had come. This single stone could boost the strength of any potion or poison brewed ten fold. It was a boon to any Alchemist.

"I'm quite aware Magician, I'm here to borrow it, maybe even keep it," Jack replied.

From behind his mask, the thief smiled. Varon wasn't pleased that the thief thought he was going to walk out of here in one piece, especially after having caused damage to his home via his summon spell.

Lightning fired off in a blue surge from his fingertips at the thief. Almost on instinct, Jack glowed with the power of the lightning spell as his body absorbed the magic. A quick absorption spell was good to know too.

He reacted with a spell of his own, to prevent the Magician from forcing Jack's hand. A green flash nailed him squarely in the chest, blasting him from the room into the hall. There was a slight grunt as Auvidicus smacked into the wall, and slid down, unable to move.

Varon cursed himself mentally as he hadn't defended himself in time, now he was paralyzed and at the mercy of a total stranger. He'd be surprised if he survived to tell the tale. The thief's eyes had never left his body, but then Varon noted his mask.

It was solid white, with a peculiar crimson spiral. The room, though lit by candles cast shadows; Varon couldn't see the eyes behind the mask. He also wore bearskins over what appeared to be chain mail. A steel dagger was fastened tightly to his hip.

Bending down, Jack began to whisper in his ear.

"On this night Varon Auvidicus I, Red Jack leave you with your life, should the case be that I find the need to return your rock I would expect the same curtsey," Jack commented waving the red gem in his face.

With a swift spin, he darted out the open window in the room that the stone had once occupied. If Varon could have moved, he would've stopped him. Angrily, lying on the floor, Varon vowed that the life of Red Jack would be ended justly.

-----

Valen had arrived in the Imperial City just as the sun had begun its ascent through the sky. He had made sure to feed, so he wouldn't have to worry about the sun causing him any problems today. The bandits that had taken up residence outside of the Vilvern ruins had made quite a snack.

He had waited in near the entrance to the market till about noon, he didn't relish the fact that he could be recognized at the University. Maybe no one would ask his name.

How he would handle the situation mulled over and over again in his head until he had gone a ways in the market. The hairs on the back of his neck had stood on ends; something unnatural was nearby but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it had been.

From beneath his hood, he had scanned the people that hustled about in the market until the feeling subsided. Valen had no idea what had caused it, it had been very sudden and shocking, like having a vat of ice water dumped on you. He knew that he was being watched the whole time as well. Could who ever had caused that reaction had something similar happen to them?

He'd have to ask Vicente when he returned to the sanctuary. Valen picked up the pace, his desire to get out the market outweighed his need to purchase a few supplies.

Quickly, he found himself slowing to a steady pace as he started to approach the arena. On the other side of those great wooden doors would be the Arboretum, which would then lead to the University. The air, though faint to a human nose smelled of blood. Valen felt the saliva grow thicker in his mouth, he had fed, but when you smell something that delights you, do you not covet it?

-----

The grand doors that lead to the University grounds were no problem for anyone to enter. Beyond those were a pair of gates that proved to be the problem, these were magically sealed to anyone that had not been written into the registry contained in the Mystic Archives. Valen had no idea what they did once they thought you dead; did they cross your name out? Who knew, but he'd soon find out as he approached said gates. Much to his surprise and relief they opened, this would make his job easier. Sneaking around in the middle of the night here would be too bothersome.

Once in the gates, he took his first view. Nothing had changed here at all. Valen noted the posted battle mage as he walked by him; he was receiving the eye of suspicion. If Valen screwed up and got noticed, this guard would probably be the one to put him as number one on the list. He brushed the eye off and continued about his way, descending the steps to the lower level of the grounds.

The University was center for powerful magic and items forged from it. Any warrior with half a brain would realize the potential use for the things here and set out to complete the required tasks for membership in the Mages Guild. At one time, Valen had been that kind of warrior, or rather adventurer. It was this knowledge that had led him to join, and become a proficient spell caster. The Mages Guild is also what set him on his path to become a dark brother.

You don't find the Dark Brotherhood, they find you. One would think it impossible for them to receive contracts for hits if they went door to door asking if you needed their services. One would be a fool if they thought that was how they did it. No, the Brotherhood is something more than that. It is headed by a dark god named Sithis, the "Dread Father" and by his side is the unholy maiden, the Night Mother. Anyone in need of the Brotherhood's services has to contact the Night Mother through ritual.

The guiding force of the Dark Brotherhood is the Black Hand, a group of five. Among them, the most powerful is the Listener, and the remaining four are the Speakers. It is the Listener that holds conference with the Night Mother, which he or she then relays to the Speakers. The Speakers then come to you, and a deal is made: they kill whoever you want in exchange for gold and one soul, yours or someone of immediate relation to you. In the final act, the contract is given to any eager assassin to carry out for payment.

Valen's history as an assassin was extensive, but his initiation had been an odd one, one that didn't occur often. He had been on an assignment to Cheydinhal when the whole crazy mess started. Valen had no problem with killing in self defense, or as a protector or avenger. As a member of the Mages Guild he was required to carry out tasks in the name of the Arch-Mage, and he had been ordered to deliver a special package to Cheydinhal. Unfortunately for the Brotherhood member that had been paid to intercept, Valen had been the better fighter.

It had been a close fight because Valen had been caught off guard with an arrow in the shoulder, and then from the trees descended an imperial dressed in full leather with a dagger. Needless to say, Valen hadn't allowed him the finishing blow and gave him via a full blast of lightning in the face. The assassin stilled didn't have the last laugh either, as Valen realized the arrow had been poisoned and handled the situation coolly.

It hadn't helped though, that while he was looting the body after handling the arrow that a Legion soldier had come riding through. Imperials have a natural distaste for Dark Elves, and the sight of one his race dead with a Dark Elf looting him didn't look good on Valen's part. Without demanding an explanation, the soldier had attacked which shortly became a chase and then a standing battle, one that Valen once again won.

It is also the job of the Speakers to recruit new members into their fold, and although they made contact with true murderers for recruitment, there was always the anomaly. Valen had become one of those anomalies as he lay down to sleep that night, exhausted from outsmarting the soldier who claimed he was a murderer. While he slept, Lucien LaChance, a Speaker had tracked him down.

At first there was nothing but a cold blade pressed against his throat, and a threat to use it if Valen didn't keep quiet and listen. He had gotten away with killing the Legionnaire but such a deed would have repercussions if not now, then later. In the end, Valen had decided to join the Brotherhood. The Legion would not change its views on him, even if he did ride straight into town with the truth even with the backing of the Mages Guild. The Empire was absolute; the Guild would only have so much influence. Afterwards, Lucien had taken care of everything tying up loose ends and ending it with Valen's own faked murder.

His hand grasped the handle of the door that would lead to the inside of the archives. Valen pushed causing the door to swing inward with a loud creak; the main room of the archives was brightly lit. Bookcases lined the walls, crammed full of centuries of information. Upstairs would be the same way, but what Valen wanted was in the Director's office, the registry.

He was approached by one of the Mages that worked here.

"Can I help you Sir?"

Valen smiled from beneath his hood.


	5. Chapter 5

Red Jack and Nightingale  
Chapter Five

The cave carried an unsettling silence about it upon entering. This was Memorial Cave, devoted to heroes that had long since been deceased. Serge doubted that anyone knew of what had befallen this resting place for the fallen warriors. Due to a lack of visitation, evil had made its home in the cave in the form of monsters: vampires, ghouls, and other foul beasts.

Serge crept quietly from the entrance, down the path to the first small room of the cave where the Vampires had erected their warning for intruders, that is, if that is what it was supposed to be. They had taken a rotted corpse and strung it up by the neck. Most of the damage to it wasn't from decay; the body was more than likely just a few weeks old though it still smelled. Vampires, if they had no need to feed kept the victim for a few days until they needed the blood, and then they drained the unfortunate soul. Sometimes, the Vampires would stretch their victims out on an altar and mutilate their bodies just hear the cries.

This body appeared to be one of those unfortunate souls. In Serge's experience, some Vampires could still stay composed as a human and feed sparingly to survive and maintain sanity. Others went stock raving mad and lived as beasts in tiny covens that stayed in old ruins and caves by day and hunted for victims by night. He couldn't recall having ever met any feral Vampire that could still manage intelligible tongue, or if they did they didn't use it.

As Serge made his way down from the rotted body, he came to the fork in the cave. The passage to the right took you deeper into the cave to the various rooms where the creatures would lurk one or two to a room usually. To continue forward would lead to the intermediary chamber that would bring him into one of the rooms that contained one of the aforementioned slabs. From there it branched only a few yards into burial rooms. He'd start there and work his way back and down the other path. If he was here to gather Vampire dust he might as well clear out the cave.

Some of the caves, Vampires still had torches like the one he passed through now, and then back into the darkness. Due to Serge's unique condition he had no need of night vision spells, however, that didn't mean there wasn't a certain spell he wanted to cast. His figure wavered slightly, before fading away leaving him invisible.

His ears picked up the faint click of bones on rock, a pattern that continued for a few moments and then stopping, next the audible crack and pop of bones twisting because they lacked the flesh components to smooth the movement. Years of experience told Serge his first target would be an animated skeleton. He never liked dealing with them because there was no way to cause them pain, and they were more durable than people gave them credit. He pulled a scroll from his belt, a powerful one he had brought just in case.

As stated, Serge's talents lay in the defensive arcane, not destruction. He was a master alchemist, and also exhibited great prowess in the other arts. However, his skills in destruction were next to non-existent. For his trip though, he had brought scrolls and quiver full of poisoned arrows.

He said the needed words and the scroll came to life fulfilling its duties. It burst into fire and flew at the skeleton, blasting it apart. The silver claymore it had wielded struck rock and rang loudly, which was not something Serge had wanted. Sounds of rushing feet filled the intermediary, Vampires as Serge gazed at them from the safety of invisibility. There was no doubt in his mind though, that they felt the presence of his kind and that soon they would use their own special sight.

Vampires not only have to drink blood to maintain their sanity, they have to do it to maintain their appearance as a human. The longer the time they go without feeding, the more their face becomes feral and unrecognizable as human. That was not the appearance of the two Vampires before him, which mean they had just recently fed within the past few hours.

Silently, Serge notched an arrow and pulled back on the string. Vampires, like other creatures have enhanced senses, and one of those is hearing. It was nothing to them to pick up the sound of a bowstring being pulled taught. Immediately the turned to their powers to sense life, and the blue aura about Serge's body suddenly became a beacon. They hissed, and attacked with their weapons. Serge dropped his invisibility and released the arrow and struck one squarely in the forehead, while leaping back to avoid the blow of the other. In seconds he would only have the one to worry about.

The remaining Vampire saw his partner fall back and shake violently because of the arrow that was without a doubt lodged in her brain now, but the poison would also be taking hold. Seconds passed, and she became still. The other brought his attention back to Serge and hissed, dropping his dagger in favor of wanting to dig his clawed hands in the flesh of the intruder. Serge guarded with his bow, and side stepped. Try as the Vampire may, he wasn't going to catch him. Serge smashed his bow long side into the creature's head momentarily stunning it for him to jam one of his arrows into its gut.

"Gwarrrish," it hissed, gripping the arrow and pulling it free.

Fortunately the damage was done and this one too, would be succumbing to the poison that had been introduced to its system. Now that at least the present danger had passed, he could examine the Vampires and take anything of value they possessed. In moments, Serge was done examining the bodies for valuables and other objects and moved on, retracing his steps back to the fork and taking the other way.

-----

Else where in the cave, a patriarch awoke at the death of two of his sires. He had been slumbering peacefully, as there was nothing else to do this night. They had already taken a soul and had a blood feast the unfortunate traveler. The sudden deaths meant they had fresh meat in their midst. He gripped the handle of his blood red claymore and rolled out of his pine box. Delaine and Author would have also sensed their deaths. As if on cue Author came to meet his death father half way.

"There is someone in the cave Father, what should we do?"

Father was the term that he had ordered his children to call him, it was reminiscent of his old life, petty yes, but he liked to be referred to as "Father". His real name was Jarvis Gilroy, he was an Imperial and he was over two-hundred years old.

With age, Vampires gain power. Jarvis' own sire, had offered him his own blood, which had set Jarvis free of bondage one hundred and twenty-two years ago allowing him to become a full Vampire and start his own clan.

Author and Delaine had been a pair of dark elves he turned twenty years ago. Their arcane talents were magnified by their dark powers, and proved very useful in subduing humans for feeding rather easily. The two that had just died, were even older than the elves at fifty-two and seventy years and Jarvis' most trusted and valiant children. He snarled and shoved past Author in the dark chambers ahead.

"Just follow me," he growled.

Both Vampires wore heavy armor, but made no noise as they trod down the dark tunnels looking for Delaine or the intruder. They were just about to enter into the room before the fork when they heard and felt Delaine's death. There had been a stretch and a twang, synonymous with arrows, right before the dull thud of it penetrating her flesh followed by her dying wail.

Moving closer, the undeniable presence of something assaulted them. Author would be too young to have met one, but Jarvis knew very well what their intruder was. Author scanned the dark with his eyes, unable to discern the presence of life like his death father yet.

"_Drop!"_

The voice of his sire echoing through his mind hadn't made him quick enough as another arrow flew out of the dark and pierced him through the throat. Blood poured forth from the wound, and while it wasn't deadly to a Vampire, Author knew there was something wrong because he felt a burning sensation coursing through his body. He looked up, and could see his killer, notching another arrow to finish him off. Ignoring the sensation, he charged with his sword drawn past Delaine's body.

She had died from an arrow through the head, much like one of the others. Author hadn't noticed, but Jarvis had. He concluded that the assailant was using poisoned arrows, and that he had just lost all his children. Rage filled him, as Author finally fell, another arrow protruding from his chest.

Jarvis put all his focus onto killing this creature, to make him suffer for having ruined years of work. Selected people, chosen by him were now dead. Jarvis had the makings of a clan beginning and now they were all dead. He leapt, bearing his claymore.

Serge saw the Vampire clearly, and fired off another arrow before rolling back. Having anticipated the move, the patriarch deflected it with his claymore and touched down lightly close to Serge. In response, Serge let loose a triple shot distracting the Vampire and tossed his bow and quiver away quickly so he could move freely, but slipped on a misplaced rock. Now on his back, he looked on as Jarvis descended on him quickly with his claymore. Serge sat up and crossed his arms to receive the blow. Jarvis thought him a fool until he saw that his claymore hadn't sliced through his arms. With a few thoughts, Serge's skin had taken on the density of steel protecting him for the time being.

Enraged that a fatal blow had been thwarted, Jarvis raised his claymore again and slammed it down still finding no effect on Serge. Reaching up, Serge placed his palms against Jarvis' stomach and blew him back with a forceful paralysis spell. The distance was enough for him to get to Author's body and claim the deceased Vampire's sword as his own. Spinning to face Jarvis the patriarch, he found the Vampire staring at him, open-eyed. The darkness in the cavern seem to strengthen around him, a further sign that something was going on was that the torch outside the room suddenly died out.

Serge felt a familiar twinge in his core, as he realized the patriarch was morphing. He tore his armor and belt off in anticipation, and dropped the sword. The Vampire before him suddenly, convulsed before doubling over. Labored breathing filled the air around them as Jarvis' head snapped up. His eyes were solid black as he opened his mouth wide, showing off his already formidable fangs that were growing longer. To accommodate the new girth of his teeth his jaw was altering as well.

Standing and raising his claymore, Jarvis threw it with enough force to knock Serge off his feet. His alteration spell from earlier was still at work, so he hadn't been harmed with the blade edge striking him in the chest.

Leathery wings sprouted from Jarvis' back, he flapped the flexibly to ensure their working order. His claws finished lengthening out, sharp as razors. Serge growled deep from within as his own transformation began, hair rippled across his body while Jarvis finished.

The audible crack of bones filled the air as Serge's shifted within his body, causing him to drop on all fours if only for the time being. His jaw stretched, becoming like a set of knives as his fangs sharpened. His night vision became much stronger, now seeing heat given off by living creatures. There was a loud rip as his shirt and pants shredded from his increase in size. From his rear stretched a long tail that quickly covered itself with hair. Serge could feel his ears migrating upward to the top of his head, molding to fine tips like that of a wolf. The whites around his blue eyes turned black, giving them an intense glare. So many things became known to him with his enhanced senses. He could smell the decay that lingered everywhere, track the scent of blood by air although there where so many here. He could hear the drip of water from the stalactites of the caves. With his whiskers, he felt the slightest change in the air. Reflexively, he scratched his claws on the cavern floor.

"I hope you love death werewolf, you're not coming back," Jarvis hissed.

Serge's vocals had been affected by the change, but he still uttered a growl in response as the two attacked one another. Snarling Vampire, struck growling Werewolf and the two tangled, smashing viciously into the cave wall resulting in several loud bangs. Jarvis snapped at Serge's throat and chomped down on the thick fur of a wolf's neck. Serge growled heavily and pulled him off before side slapping him through a stalagmite where the Vampire rolled on the floor quickly recovering from the strike. Hurtling through the enclosed space aided by his wings Jarvis drove his claws into Serge's stomach. Howling Serge's bit down ripping a section of muscle out of Jarvis' arm. It made a sickening slapping noise as it plopped down on the cavern floor. The pulled away from one another only for their wounds to heal before Jarvis leapt up and attached to the ceiling scrabbling off.

Vampires being a part of the undead had low body temperatures, he would not be able to see him via body heat, but he could still hear the faint scratches of the Vampire's claws against the ceiling rock. Serge needed to end this before the situation became worse than it currently was. He heard the sound of a body falling through the air and a scrape of metal as Jarvis flew through the air at him. The Vampire had gone through all that trouble to retrieve his claymore. There was no doubt in Serge's mind that the intent behind this action was to decapitate him. Only a fool would leap to meet the Vampire head on, so instead he waited. Rolling to the left as Jarvis swung Serge recovered and lunged at one of his fleeing feet as he passed overhead. Jarvis howled in response to being pulled out of the air by the werewolf, as a quick counter measure he attempted to bury the claymore in Serge's side. The move met with success but Serge ignored the pain as best as he could as he bit into the Vampire again.

His goal was to cause enough damage for a few moments to allow him a plan. Serge felt muscle and bone giving way in his mouth, and satisfied he pulled Jarvis' leg off with a spurt of blood. The angry cries and curses that filled the cave were nothing compared to anything else from earlier this night. The claymore was so deep in his side now that he could not bear to ignore it any longer. He jerked away, trying to pull the blade out as he did so. Jarvis would no doubt be working on regenerating his missing leg right now, though he stilled howled and cursed. After enough tugging the blade slid, free of his side and clattering on the cave floor finally allowing Serge's body to knit its wound shut. His next move would depend on how Jarvis was going to respond to having his leg torn off.

Moments passed in silence. The darkness seemed to crush him as he waited for his opponent to attack. Serge pondered on what angles the Vampire might use to attack, if he could push the Vampire onto one of the rocky points sticking up out of the floor he might be able to end this. It would depend on Jarvis attacking him from the ceiling. The faint scratching of Jarvis' claws on stone met his ears, and as Serge hoped, the Vampire attacked from above falling from the ceiling. Serge leapt with as much strength as his legs would muster plowing into Jarvis. Both he and the Vampire flipped in the air and landed on the cavern floor. There was loud wail from Jarvis' throat and a brief second of pain as Serge realized something had stuck under his left foreleg. The Werewolf had succeeded in his original plan seeing that Jarvis writhed beneath him as the stalagmite protruded from his diaphragm. Unfortunately, Serge had also wounded himself but there was no time to waste, he had to act before Jarvis could do anything to free himself. Dislodging the stalagmite from his body Serge reacted quickly, his wolfish jaws clamping around the Vampire's throat. Jarvis' claws pierced his sides in an attempt to force Serge off him but nothing would weaken the Werewolf's death grip at this point. Blood filled his mouth as continued to bite through the layers of flesh protecting the one thing that Jarvis wanted to stop him from getting at. By this time Jarvis' vocal cords were to damaged to make any noise, but his face said it all as it was contorted in shock that he was going to be done in by a mere Werewolf. Putting forth all he had left Serge bit through his spine severing the connection between his head and body. Jarvis' head rolled off the side and his body convulsed, and flailed wildly underneath Serge before ceasing all movements.

Serge was concerned that the Vampire may rise again, but they had to be very old to survive such a fatal blow. He limped away from the corpse, the hole under his leg healing. As it did so, his lope became much more natural. He was tired, and it had been a tough fight. If Jarvis had been anymore powerful that he was, Serge would have lost. He made an error and accepted the fact, thinking that the Vampires living in this cave would be nothing. He pawed silently down the tunnel, towards the entrance of the cave. Sun light poured through the wooden door covering the entrance to the cave. His body began to revert to his human form. The fur receded and his tail sucked back into his spine, which then began to straighten up. As it did so, he stood up, walking shakily. Serge's muzzle shrunk back into his face, his teeth flattened back out, and the claws on his hands shrunk back into short, dull human nails. By the time he reached the door, he was normal. He would rest outside for a few hours before daring to venture back into the cave for his possessions. Sonya would no doubt be worried to death as he had been gone since yesterday, but he still had work to do in the cave. Jarvis' body had to be burned along with the others to ensure total destruction of the Vampires, and he required their ashes.


End file.
